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Dinner at Chez Mortification (#4)

In which the white girl flails worse than any fish out of water.

My first dinner with the family of my Chinese-American boyfriend was at a Hawaiian fusion restaurant. Andy’s mom Sunny chatted mainly about the chef, and how he was nice and fat. But once she got a glass of wine and our orders were taken, conversation lagged. Andy’s taciturn father Jay had forgotten the usually omnipresent video camera, but he still said nothing. I asked Andy’s brother Denny how he and Claire met. I asked Claire about her major (again). I told everyone how Andy and I met. I tried to fill the silence any way I could.

I fought a losing battle with monosyllabic answers.

“So, Jay, is this your favorite restaurant?’

“No.”

“What is your favorite restaurant?”

“Chinese.”

“Um, what about you, Denny?”

“Roy’s.”

Jay interrupted. “No.”

I laughed. “You’re not seriously telling Denny what his favorite restaurant is?”

He seriously was. Jay said to Denny, “No. Roy’s too expensive.”

Silence. No one argued.

“What’s Roy’s?” I asked Andy.

“It’s an Asian fusion place in Hawaii Kai.”

“We should totally take your parents there and pick up the check.”

Andy downed a large gulp of beer. “Bad idea.”

The food arrived. We ate in silence. I’m not good with silence. After a minute, I said, “Sunny, how did you and Jay—“

BOOM! Jay slammed both fist down on the table. Utensils and glasses rattled. We – and the rest of the restaurant — stared at Jay.

Jay barked across the table at Andy: “How you sleep!?”

Andy, bewildered: “In my new bed? Fine –“

Jay interrupted. “No, no! How you sleep she talk so much!?”

I stared at my plate, redder Hawaii’s dumbest tourist. Denny, Claire, Sunny, and even Andy (traitor!) snickered. I turned to Sunny when the hilarity subsided. “C’mon, Sunny, obviously I am talking too much and you have to help me out.”

Sunny gave me a glassy look and announced: “I’m drunk!”

“I thought you only had one glass of chardonnay?”

“I did,” laughed Sunny. “I am a cheap date!”

At least the laughter wasn’t at my expense this time. Andy signaled the waiter for another beer. I wondered where my boyfriend got his tolerance for alcohol. Jay was drinking only water, and not well. He choked on a sip a few minutes later.

I waited, and when Jay’s coughing fit finally died down, I gave Sunny my sweetest smile and loudly cooed, “How do you sleep, he coughs so much?”

Jay glared at me, but couldn’t think of a retort. Undoubtedly due to a dearth of practice.